Stuck In a Moment
by Michmak
Summary: Sara needs a friend. Nick is there to be one.
1. Default Chapter

Title: Stuck in a Moment

  
Authors: Michmak 

  
Rating: PG13 for the subject matter and some language.

  
Summary:  Sara needs a friend.  Nick is there to be one.

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Nick didn't appreciate getting a call at 3:00 in the morning on his one night off in over three weeks.

He didn't appreciate it at all.

Growling as he fumbled around for his pants, his cell phone pinched painfully between his ear and his shoulder, was not his idea of a great night off.

Of course, neither was falling asleep before midnight while watching Discovery Channel from his bed – by himself.  He barked his shin painfully against his dresser and almost dropped the phone before he managed to steady himself.  The cursing, of course, couldn't be helped.

"Yeah – okay Todd.  I'll be there shortly – thanks for calling me.  No, I don't mind.  Really.  I'm just glad you remembered.  See you in a bit."

Still cursing under his breath, he hastily buttoned up his shirt, tucked his cell phone in his back pocket, and headed out the door.  Someone had some explaining to do.

* * * * *

The bar was a dive.  It was beyond a dive.  The only pool table was so stained with alcohol and *other* fluids the original green felt was a muddied brown.  Nick looked around him with feigned disinterest, before spotting Todd at the bar and heading his way.

"Hey man, what's up?"

Todd cocked his head sideways and grinned at the younger man through his beer glass.  "You still look like a cop, even past 3 in the morning.  Does your hair even move?"

"Quit busting my chops," Nick's reply was good-natured as he smiled at the older man.  "Where is she?"

"Been keeping an eye on her for you – she's over in the corner booth.  Pretty little thing, although she's gonna have a massive hangover tomorrow.  What in the world would she want to come to a place like this for?"

Nick set at the empty barstool to the left of his friend, shooting a covert glance to the far booth, before replying, "I don't know, man.  Why do you come here?"

"Three reasons:  cheap beer, cheaper women, and no one recognizes me."

"Maybe she doesn't want anyone to recognize her, either," Nick nodded at his companion's empty glass and held up two fingers when the bartender asked him what he wanted.  "She been here long?"

"Long enough," Todd replied.  "A couple of guys approached her earlier, but she wasn't too civil.  Luckily, nothing came of it.  I woulda gone and talked to her, but I was afraid she'd bolt if she realized I recognized her and then what would happen?  That's why I called you."

Nick picked up one of the beers in front of him, and slid the other to

his friend, "Thanks Todd.  I owe you one.  This stays between us, right?"

Todd picked up his fresh beer and took a long pull,  "Once a cop, always a cop, Stokes."

Nick smiled grimly at his friend before saluting him with his drink, "Same goes for you, bud.  I got your back."

* * * * *

"Come here often?"

Nick's question, although gentle, made her flinch.  Squinting slightly, she turned her head towards his voice and took another sip of her drink.  "Right back atcha', Cowboy."

"Sara…."

"Nick…"  Sara intoned back.  She tried not to frown when Nick slid into the empty seat across from her.  "I don't remember asking you to join me."

"You didn't," Nick replied, "but I'm here anyway.  What are you doing?"

"Same thing as you – having a drink," she retorted, glancing pointedly at his beer before taking another sip of hers.

Nick looked at the array of empty bottles around her, before replying lightly, "Looks like you've had more than one."

"Who are you?  Mother Theresa?"  Sara frowned when Nick merely shrugged, before squinting blurrily at him.  "Besides, isn't it your night off?  Why're you alone?"

"I'm not alone – I'm with you," Nick replied reasonably, "And it may be my night off, but last time I checked the schedule it wasn't yours.  What's up?"

"Clocked out early."

"Why?"

"Slow night.  They didn't need me."  

"So why come here?"

"What the fuck is this?" Sara snapped, "Twenty questions?  Did Grissom send you to find me?"

"It's just not like you to cut out early, Sara.  I've never seen you do it in over three years.  And why would Grissom send me to find you?"

Sara shrugged, "He wouldn't.  Probably doesn't even realize I left."

Nick tried not to wince at the defeated tone in her voice, "Sara…."

"No, it's true.  Why I keep deluding myself that it might be otherwise, I'll never know.  Well, fuck him.  I don't need him."  She stood suddenly and reached for his hand.  "Hear that?  My favorite song!  Dance with me, Nick."

Nick stood and placed a bracing hand under her elbow as she rocked sideways, "Sure you wouldn't rather just go home, Sara?"

"Can't. C'mon, Nick…"

"Sara, you can hardly stand…."

Sara turned and looped her arms around his neck, "You'll keep me from falling."

Nick sighed,  "Fine – one song, but then I'm taking you home okay?"

Sara started to nod her head, before deciding it felt much better propped on Nick's shoulder.  On some level, she realized that Nick was holding her up, practically carrying her as they swayed slowly to the song emanating weakly from the juke box.  She started humming softly into his neck, and realized she suddenly felt like crying. 

_'I'm not afraid of anything in this world  
There's nothing you can throw at me  
That I haven't already heard  
  
I'm just trying to find a decent melody  
A song that I can sing  
In my own company  
  
I never thought you were a fool  
But darling look at you  
You gotta stand up straight  
Carry your own weight  
These tears are going nowhere baby  
  
You've got to get yourself together  
You've got stuck in a moment  
And now you can't get out of it  
Don't say that later will be better  
Now you're stuck in a moment  
And you can't get out of it...' _

* * * * *

"No country music!" Sara declared, as Nick set her into the passenger side of his truck and did up her seatbelt.  He smiled at her benignly as she made her demands, before quickly rounding the front of his truck and climbing in.  Sara had her head thrown back against the seat as he started the motor and quickly flipped the radio to a rock station he knew she'd like.

"Are you coming to my place, or are we going to yours?"

"I don't care," she responded, "Anyplace.  What about the Denali?"

"It's fine there for now.  I'll drive you back tomorrow and you can get it when you're more capable of driving, that okay?"  Nick kept his tone gentle as he drove towards his place.  Noticing the pallor of Sara's face, he hit the switch and lowered the passenger window slightly to let in some fresh air.  "You okay?"

Sara grimaced and made an exaggerated 'ok' symbol with her thumb and index-finger, "Don't worry, cowboy.  I won't wreck the upholstery," she mumbled.

"That's not what I'm worried about, Sar…I meant, are **_you_** okay?  I've never seen you like this before and…"

Sara's snort cut him off, "Save the white-hat routine for another time, 'kay?  I don't really feel like a lecture right now."

"I'm not lecturing, I'm just worried."

"Not your job."

"Whose job is it, then?"

She didn't reply.  The silence between them grew suddenly deafening, and Nick tapped his thumbs impatiently against the steering wheel as he waited for a reply.  When none was forthcoming, he smiled grimly.  Her silence just proved his point – someone had to worry about her, and he appointed himself.

* * * * *

Nick had never seen Sara so drunk before.  He had known at the bar that she was fairly looped, but it wasn't until he got her out of that dive that he realized how drunk she was.  The alcohol just seemed to be kicking in, and he wondered why he hadn't counted the empty bottles at her booth before he practically carried her out.

Standing in his driveway, he looped one of her arms around his neck and gently helped shift her out of his truck.  "C'mon Sara, work with me here."

"Feel sick," she replied shakily.  

He tightened his one arm around her waist, "I'm not surprised.  There's a girl.  One foot in front of the other….here we go."  Fumbling with his keys, he leaned into the doorway slightly to help support her weight.  She was barely standing on her own to feet.  He sighed in relief as he felt the deadbolt slide, and twisted the handle gently.  "Come on…"

"Gonna be sick," Sara muttered suddenly, throwing her hand up to cover her mouth.  Nick sighed and quickly hustled her into the bathroom, barely getting her to the toilet on time as she started heaving.  Reaching under his sink, he grabbed a face cloth and dampened it with cool water, before running it over the back of her neck and her forehead.  He pulled her hair away from her face, and winced in sympathy as she retched noisily.  His hand made comforting circles on her back.

After a few minutes, he helped her lean back against his bathroom wall and handed her a glass of cold water.  "Feel better?"

Sara nodded weakly and took a sip.

"Gonna puke again?"

She shook her head.  Nick grinned.  "Good."  Rising from his crouch beside her, he leaned over and flushed the toilet before stretching, "My legs were starting to cramp up."

Sara looked miserable, "I'm sorry, Nick."

Nick shrugged, "What are friends for.  Come on – upsie-daisie. You want a clean shirt?  Pair of shorts?"

"Yes, please," Sara's voice was pitiful.  Nick could tell she was on the verge of tears.  Giving her face another gentle wipe with the cool face cloth, he pulled her gently into a hug.  

"None of that – you're going to feel bad enough when you wake up – don't start beating yourself up until you're sober.  I can handle a lot of things, but drunken guilt ain't one of them."  He was gratified to see a brief smile flicker across her pallid features at his gentle teasing.  Helping her gingerly into his room, he sat her on the edge of his bed and turned to pull a fresh t-shirt and some boxers out of her dresser.

"Think you can do this yourself, or do you need some help?"

"I can do it."

"Good girl.  I'll go get you some more water – if you can get some more down, it'll help with the hangover.  Back in a minute."

When he returned, Sara had changed and was huddled under the comforter on his bed, half-asleep.  Slowly approaching the edge of his bed, he placed the water on the nightstand and grimaced at the pile of clothes on the floor.  Shaking his head, he bent down and picked them up, folding her shirt and jeans neatly, and resisting the urge to win the office pool amongst the male lab techs by checking the tag inside her bra.  

Sara mumbled something at him, and he leant down closer to her.  "You awake?"

He got no reply.  Reaching out he smoothed her hair gently off her face, "What's going on with you, Sara?" 

 Flipping the light off, he silently left his bedroom and grabbed an extra pillow and blanket out of his linen closet.  Thank God his sofa was comfortable.

____________

Author's Notes:  I know this is a new story.  I know many of you are still waiting for me to finish Learning to Fly, Revenge of the Nerds (with Heidi) and update Fractured – all of which I plan on doing.  I just haven't been feeling the stories lately – I blame it on a ho-hum season three and the complete bastardization of characters I came to really love.  Season Four seems to be back on track somewhat, and sort of inspired this little piece.  What does it all mean?  I don't really know.  

The song is the wonderful U2 song 'Stuck in a Moment'.

Please note, my email change – I had a complete system melt-down and lost everything, including my address book –so please, everyone I was corresponding with through email, please contact me!


	2. Stuck in a Moment, II

Stuck in a Moment, II.

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Sara awoke slowly, fighting consciousness all the way.  The meager light entering the room through the California shutters stabbed her eyelids, making her groan.  The groan, of course, illustrated how parched and dry she was – she felt like someone had stuffed old socks down her throat.

Burying her head under the blankets in a vain attempt to hide from the light, she realized something was different.  Her muddled brain struggled for a few minutes, piecing together the evidence, slowly coming to the realization that she wasn't in her own room.

Fighting back the sudden panic threatening to overwhelm her, Sara came to a few quick conclusions: she was hung-over, she wasn't in her own clothes, and she didn't know where she was.

She also didn't know what to do. 

Casting frantically about in her mind for some hint – some memory – of what had happened last night didn't appear to help matters.  Everything was foggy.  She vaguely remembered leaving the lab and stopping at an out-of-the-way bar for a couple of beers.  She remembered feeling sorry for herself, but couldn't quite remember why.  She remembered someone…familiar…showing up and talking to her…dancing…if she strained really hard, she could almost remember a voice….

"Sara – you awake?"

Sara bolted upright, before collapsing back and shutting her eyes against the sudden bright light filling the room.  Nick had opened the blinds, and was watching her intently as she threw her hand over her eyes.

"Turn off the sun," she muttered, even as she realized where she was.  

Nick grinned, but lowered the blinds half way, "Sorry about that.  How you feeling?"

"Like someone used the inside of my head for a bowling alley."

"I got some Tylenol here for you, and some water.  If you think you can stomach something for breakfast, I can cook you up a mean vegetable omelet."

"Tylenol is great, but I don't know if I could eat," Sara lowered her arm and slowly opened her eyes again, pushing herself slowly up and sliding her legs out of the bed. "What am I doing here, Nick?"

"Looks like you're trying to get up," Nick offered good-naturedly.  "Need a hand?"

Sara smiled grimly, "I might.  Do you know where my clothes are?"

"I threw them in the washer for you last night – they smelled of beer and stale smoke.  They're just in the dryer now."  Nick stepped forward and held out a glass of cold water with a couple of pills, "Here, Sara – this should help."

"How'd I get here, Nick?" she asked quietly.  "I don't really remember…"

"Didn't imagine you would," he cut in, taking the half empty glass back from her.  "I've put some fresh towels in the bathroom if you want a shower.  Why don't you freshen up and meet me in the kitchen before we talk, huh?"

* * * * *

The cold shower was refreshing, and did manage to clear her head somewhat.  Grimacing at her reflection in the mirror, she ran her fingers through her hair and tried to remove the tangles.  Nick had knocked on the bathroom door halfway through her shower, and told her her clothes were lying on the bed.

She could hear him banging around in the kitchen as she quickly dressed, enjoying the last traces of warmth from the dryer as she pulled her pants on.  Casting a nervous glance at the bed, she nervously ran her hands across the front of her shirt, taking one final look into the mirror before stepping out into the hallway.

Nick's stereo was playing – she didn't recognize the song – but she heard Nick singing to himself as he worked in the kitchen.  Willing her feet to move, she headed towards the sound of his voice.  She recalled the first time she had ever been to his house – the night she and Warrick had brought him home from the hospital after Nigel Crane had pushed him out the window.  She had thought it quite nice at the time – not the frat house she had expected, considering who owned it.

The second time she had been here, she had been working a crime scene.  She shuddered as she remembered the large hole in his ceiling, and the dead body on the floor.  She was actually surprised Nick hadn't moved – she knew she would have, after an experience like that.

When she had mentioned this to Nick, he had shrugged his shoulders.  "If I move, Crane wins.  Sometimes it's better to pick up the pieces and see what you can salvage, rather than just chuck everything and start over."

Sara didn't think she could be that brave.  Holes in ceilings where easier to fix than holes in lives.  She paused when she stepped into the open area of Nick's living room, smiling as she noticed the pillow and neatly folded blanket sitting on his sofa.  At least, that was one question laid to rest.  She knew Nick would never take advantage of her, but it was her nature to be suspicious.  It was nice to have her faith in someone verified, for a change.

Nick spotted her and smiled, waving his hand to indicate she should sit down at the counter dividing the kitchen from his living room.  "Feel better?"

"The shower definitely helped," Sara responded.  She felt awkward as she sank onto a bar stool and looked at him.  "My head feels a little clearer now."

"Think you could eat?  Nothing big, just a nice omelet and some toast.  And OJ."

Sara took an appreciative whiff, and was surprised when her stomach grumbled, "I think I could handle that.  Do you have coffee?"  

Nick grinned at her, and turned back to the stove, expertly flipping the omelet he was preparing, "Knew you'd ask that.  Instant okay?  I ran out of perc. yesterday."

Sara nodded, "Instant's fine."

Nick gave her a mug and a jar of Encore coffee, "The carafe against the counter there has hot water.  You still drinking your coffee black?"

Sara nodded, "Especially today.  Listen, Nick – about last night…"  She paused, unsure how to continue.  Nick looked at her silently as he handed her a plate and slid her meal onto it.  "Why am I here?"

He shrugged, "Remember Todd Greene?"  

Sara looked at him blankly.  Nick sighed.

"Warrick and I used to play pick-up basketball with him and his partner, Glenn Harden.  They were detectives – we worked with Todd on that case from a few years back, the one with the crack head who killed her dealer."

"His partner was killed last year, right?"

Nick nodded, "Caught doing surveillance by someone affiliated with the Marcisco family – shot in the head.  Todd wasn't with him at the time, and IA investigated – wanted to know where Todd was, why Glenn was alone, etc. etc… Forced him to take early retirement."

"What does this have to do with last night?"

"He called me, around 3 in the morning.  Saw you at the Spotted Owl, and thought someone should come and get you.  You'd been drinking a lot."

"Why'd he call you?"

"Why not?  He knows me, and he recognized you from the crime lab.  He was just watching out for one of  LVPDs finest."

"I'm not a cop," Sara replied.

"Doesn't matter.  You work with cops, and I was a cop before CSI, and you work with me."

Sara looked skeptical, "Still – why you?"

"He knows we're friends, Sara.  And he knows what can happen if rumors get started.  What if someone had seen you?  I've worked with you for over three years and if I hadn't seen you with my own eyes last night…" he paused, and looked at her closely.  "How long have you been drinking, Sara?"

She glared at him.  "Well, let's see…I'm 34 and became a legal adult when I was 21 – so that's 13 years."

Nick shook his head, "That's not what I meant, and you know it.  Seriously, what's going on?  What had you so upset you clocked out of work early and went on a bender at one of the sleaziest bars in Vegas?"

Sara looked at her fingers, "I don't remember.  I don't remember hardly anything from last night."  Taking a shaky breath, she looked at Nick and admitted, "When I woke up this morning, I had no idea where I was.  I thought I had…you know…" 

"Hooked up with someone for a wild one night stand?"

Sara flushed, and nodded guiltily.

"Where you disappointed when you found out it was only me?"

"No!" her response was immediate and adamant.  "I was so relieved it _was_ you, because I knew you would never take advantage of me.  But I'm embarrassed too, because you found me like that and scared because I don't remember…"

"You drink a lot?"  Nick's tone was non-judgmental, but he couldn't hide his concern.

Sara sighed, "More than I should."

"Blackout often?"

"Never before.  This was – a first."

Nick nodded, and walked around the counter to sit on the bar stool next to her.  Her half eaten omelet was forgotten as he gently took her hand.  "Do you have a drinking problem, Sara?"

"No.  Maybe."  Sara was flustered.  "It could become one."

"Why are you drinking?"

"Why not?" she laughed, but there was no mirth in it.  "I don't know.  I'm just – I'm so angry, and depressed.  I'll have a couple of beers after shift to help me relax.  I can't seem to sleep otherwise."

"Last night was more than a couple of beers, Sara.  And even though you weren't working, you were supposed to be.  What happened?"

"I honestly don't remember."

"Why are you angry and depressed?"

"Just…everything lately seems to be getting me.  I mean, every shift it's something new and even more disgusting.  I feel so – ineffectual and alone.  I still have nightmares about Suzanna Kirkwood.  I guess work is getting to me, and I don't have anyone to talk to about it."

"You're talking to me now, Sara.  You could talk to Grissom and…"

"No.  I can't.  Grissom and I don't – we're not really friends anymore, Nick.  I don't know if we ever where."

Nick filed away that little bit of information to peruse later, noticing the wistfulness in her voice.  "Well, who do you hang with outside work?  Surely one of your friends…"  Nick trailed off at Sara's blank expression.  "Sara, tell me you know people outside the lab."

Sara shrugged, and Nick sighed.  "You're telling me you don't talk to anyone else expect us?  What do you do after work, or on your days off?"

Sara tried to smile, "I catch up on my reading, or watch TV.  Sometimes I go to the movies.  It's no biggie, Nick.  I'm not very sociable.  I don't need-"

"Bullshit!  Bullshit!  How can you say that?  No wonder you're angry and depressed.  Christ, some friend I am, huh?  Why didn't you say anything, Sara?"

"It's not your fault.  It's just – since that whole mess with Hank…and everything else..."

"Hank was a bastard.  You're way too good for him.  Listen, I'm here for you okay?  Always.  Don't ever think you can't talk to me, or call me when you're lonely.  We'll get you through this, okay?"

Sara looked skeptical.

"I'm serious, Sara.  I'm here for you.  Promise me, no more drinking.  Spend time with me and we'll work through this together."

"That's too much for me to ask -"

"You're not asking, I'm offering.  Do you want to become an alcoholic?  Do you want to burn out?  Think of your career if nothing else.  If anyone found out you were drinking -"

"Brass suspects."

"What?"

"Brass – he hinted that I had a problem a couple of weeks ago.  Cough drops."

Nick looked at her blankly for a moment, before realization set in.  "Fuck.  Sara – I never even thought about it!"

"Why would you?  Nick," Sara looked at him, "I swear to you, it's not a big problem."

"Blackouts are a problem, Sara.  Coming to work hung-over is a problem!"  He ran a hand through his short hair.  "You need help."

"I'm not an alcoholic!"

Nick sighed, "Didn't say you were – yet.  Listen, shift starts in two hours.  Let's go get the Denali and head to your place.  We can talk about this again later."

Sara mirrored his movements, "Fine.  But I'm not a charity case.  And I don't need your help – I can fix this by myself."

"Maybe you can, maybe you can't.  But whether you want my help or not, you got it.  Come on, let's head out."

____________

Author's Note:  

I don't like what the writers are trying to do to Sara.  I don't know what the reasoning is behind the hints that she has a drinking problem.  I have no idea how they're going to pull that off without making a lot of viewers lose respect for her as a character. This is sort of my preemptive strike to some terrible spoilers I've heard.  _Sigh._

It sort off pisses me off, to be perfectly honest.  I also don't like the marginalization of Nick this season, and the seemingly unending focus on Catherine.  CSI has a talented cast – I wish the writers would start using everyone more.  No offence to Catherine, who was a great character Seasons 1 and 2, but I'm getting sick of her and her single-mother-ex-stripper-ex-cokehead-illegitimate daughter of murdering father-pushing the ethical envelope person she has become the last two seasons.  Bring back the old Catherine, and give us some real character growth for everyone!

In case you didn't guess from my mini-tirade, what I'm trying to let you all know is there won't be a lot of Catherine in this story.  Please don't hate me.


End file.
